


Slice of Life

by LexieCarver



Category: Dexter (TV), Supernatural
Genre: 1st person, Dean is Dexter, Dexter - Freeform, F/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexieCarver/pseuds/LexieCarver
Summary: Pairing: Dean x ReaderWord Count: 3,125A/N:  This was written for @jensennjared’s Entertainment AU Writing Challenge with the prompt Dexter. This is HEAVILY influenced by the TV show Dexter, so the story is told by Dean. There is violence, dead bodies, a pedophile barely mentioned, and cursing. Everything is lightly done to not squik anyone out. I borrowed some of the dialogue and the flow of the story from the pilot episode. Big thanks to @bloodysideofhell for being an awesome beta. Enjoy. :)





	

[Also posted on Tumblr-](http://roxy-davenport.tumblr.com/post/153833841521/slice-of-life)

 

My name is Dean Winchester and this is my story. I drive a 67 Impala. My father loved this car like it was his child and gifted it to me. I’ve taken good care of it. I think he’d be proud.

 

Night. When all the monsters come out. And so do I. Tonight I’m hungry. I love pie and beer and they’re both amazing here in Miami but tonight I’m hungry for something else. People wear so many masks every day. Loving father, good husband, good boss. But the night is when all the masks fall off. Take Brady here for example. He’s kissing his children but I know he’s a pedophile. I wear a mask, too, but at least I admit what I am.

 

I’ve been watching him for a week now. Tonight is the night.

 

Brady moves to his car, opening the door and sighing before revving the engine. He doesn’t see me. I close my eyes, pop up from the backseat and hold a wire to his neck. I open my eyes slowly looking into his through the mirror. My voice is even and calm as I speak to him.

 

“You’re mine now so you’re going to want to do what I say.”

 

His fearful eyes dart back to me. “Good I have his attention.”

 

“Drive.”

 

Brady freezes so I push the wire into his neck even more. Brady sputters nearly choking. He floors the gas and starts driving. I still hold the wire to his neck.

 

“Where to?” Brady chokes out.

 

I smile back at him in the rearview.

 

“Just drive. I’ll tell you when we’re there.”

 

I can hear the roar of my blood. I feel that familiar feeling of butterflies in my stomach. I’m so excited. All the planning and finally I can give in to my needs, my darkest impulses.

 

I force him to drive to the middle of a forest. No one is around for miles. We’ll have all the privacy we need. My excitement and anger at his crimes get the best of me and I drag him out of the car by his neck only to unceremoniously shove him into the door. I all but growl as I stare down at him. He looks up at me with big eyes. I grab him by the neck and push him up to my eyes. Brady is shaking, begging me but my face holds no empathy. I’m disgusted with this man and what he does. I hold a knife up to his eyes. He’s refusing to look where I want him to. I start to feel my blood boil.

 

“I’ll cut your eyelids off if you don’t look. LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID. They’re children.

Children! I may be a monster but I have standards.”

 

Brady looks at me with wild eyes. I stare back at him with cold ones as I stab him in the neck with a syringe. His body goes slack immediately.

 

As always I took the time to prep. The ritual is what calms me, focuses me on the task at hand. I came here before scouting out proper locations to take Brady to. I never use the same location twice. John’s code. I always follow John’s code. I take my time laying the plastic wrap down all over the area. I make sure to duct tape the edges so it doesn’t slide off. It’s much less work for me this way. I don’t have to scrub the walls, I just take up the plastic wrap. Less mess, more order.

 

Brady wakes up naked tied to the table with me over him holding a saw with a mask on. I love the kill always have. But the fear. I love the fear too. The predators should be afraid of me.

 

“Soon you’ll be in separate hefty bags in my own small corner of the world. It’ll be a neater, happier, better place without you in it.”

 

Without any care to the man on my table, I draw his blood and put a small drop of it on a slide. I carefully laid another slide on it, preserving the blood, a souvenir for myself of yet another monster I rid the world of. I breathe in and close my eyes. My little order in a chaotic world.

 

_(Flashback)_

 

“The Billups say Buddy disappeared.”

 

Dean remained silent opting to look at his zipper.

 

“They found the grave.”

 

Dean sighed before speaking fast, almost nervously to his father.

 

“That dog just wouldn’t shut up. It just kept barking and mom’s sick. She needs her rest, so I had to do it.”

 

John sighs heavily grabbing his son and holding him tight. He takes out a shuddering breath as he hugs his son even closer to him.

 

 

When I finish with the garbage of the world, formerly known as Brady, I always take some time on my boat, Slice of Life. It calms me to be on the water, just me and the endless blue ocean. Nature has always had a calming effect on me.

 

_(Flashback)_

John hears Dean sneak into the barn to put the knife back in the tool box. John turns around eyeing the knife and then Dean.

 

“Whenever you get the urge, you come to me and we deal with it together.”

 

“I know. I do tell you, dad. Every time.”

 

“Dean, there’s blood on this knife.”

 

“Animals. Only ever animals.”

 

“Do you ever think about hurting humans?”

 

“Yeah, but no one specifically.”

 

John groaned.

 

“I thought we had this under control.”

 

Dean looks down at the floor. John’s face softens marginally. He turns his whole body around to look into his son’s eyes.

 

“You don’t remember anything from before do you? From your birth parents?

 

“No and Sam was only four months old at the time. He doesn’t remember, either. Is that why I have this?”

 

“Have it? Dean it’s not a thing. It’s not a disease. It’s part of you; it’s who you are. We all have demons, son. This is yours. It’s nothing you did wrong. What happened back then changed something inside you. It got into you too early. I’m afraid your urge to kill will only get stronger with time.”

 

Dean looked at the ground again. John was silent a minute to let what he said sink in.

 

When he spoke again his voice was softer.

 

“You’re a good kid because otherwise it wouldn’t just be animals. You would have escalated already to humans.”

 

John rubbed his forehead and cheek with his left hand before speaking again.

 

“OK…so we can’t stop this…Well then we’ll just have to channel it. There are a lot of terrible people in the world and the police can’t get them all, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“But you have to be careful, Dean. You have to be absolutely sure they’re the perpetrator every time. You can’t just go on hunches; you need proof. And you have to cover your tracks. I can teach you how if you’ll let me.”

 

Dean’s eyes light up.

“Remember this, son. I love you. You will always be my son and you are never alone.”

 

As usual I fall into a dreamless sleep. I wake up and eat, having the same breakfast I always have. Routines make the man. I make my bed and go see John. I bring new flowers every week. Sometimes I don’t talk, I just sit content to be near him so to speak and surrounded by quiet. It’s a nice change of pace from the usual environments I find myself in. Today though, was the anniversary of his death so I decided to speak to him.

 

“You’d be so proud of me. I always live by your code, always. I never falter, never forget my objective and I am never sloppy. I wish you could see how many monsters I took care of. I know you’d be proud.”

 

I smiled a sad smile that never reached my eyes.

 

I get home feeling strangely reminiscent. His anniversary always did strange things to me. I opened my air conditioner finding my collection of blood slides. I added the one I made last night before flipping through them all. I looked down at the names and closed my eyes as I remembered each one of the criminals I killed. I created order to the world, is there anything more beautiful. My brother’s voice pulled me out of my reverie.

 

“Hey Dean. I’m in this shithole, the Seven Seas Motel. I need your help. Pretty fucking please, big brother? I need your input on this fucking case again.”

 

I laughed. Yep, that was my foul-mouthed brother. Sam has such a big heart. He forgives easily, preferring to see the good in people. As a result he’s been hurt quite a few times. I myself see people, as they are, no illusions, no hope for a better side. Sammy also has a giant guilt complex. He blames himself for the smallest things. Sometimes I think my younger brother is just too sensitive for this world. It’s curiously remarkable that we both came out of the same horrible past, apparently too horrible for John to tell us, with two widely different personalities. He’s the only one in the whole world who loves me. I can’t love but if I could love anyone, it would be my brother.

 

I walked right under the yellow tape thrusting my credentials in the face of the officer who tried to stop me. Looking at a crime scene in the daytime is weird. It’s almost like a tainted Disneyland, Dahmerland. I saw a bunch of uniformed officers around the pool but made a beeline to my brother choosing to get the run-down of the case from him instead.

 

“This is the third body in 5 months. It looks like we have a serial killer here. This one is chopped up in pieces, too.”

 

“Another hooker?” I inquired already guessing the answer.

 

“Yeah in the pool. I wish I was actually fucking investigating and not on the sidelines. I have to talk to the fucking onlookers instead. What the hell Dean!”

 

“It’s all politics Sammy. You gotta play the game.”

 

“Yeah...well maybe you can help me. You always have really good insight into these kinds of cases. Any kind of help you can offer would be great.”

 

“You just need more confidence.”

 

“Yeah…let me know if-”

 

“Sure Sammy.”

 

I walked over to the body only to find that there was no blood anywhere. No messy blood around the crime scene. Instead I found wrapped body parts. There was no blood so I had to go back to the office. No blood, no work for me, a blood splatter analyst. This killer may have exceeded my own abilities. First time that's ever happened.

 

I come back to the office with donuts for everyone. It’s amazing how no one sees through my mask. Save for one person, everyone likes me. I exchange pleasantries as they take the donuts out of the box. I watch them devour them, look at their happy faces, icing on their lips. Sam smiles at me as he takes a donut before running back to his desk, “Thanks for the fucking donut Dean.”

 

“No problem, Sammy.”

 

I run to my sanctuary away from the chaos. My office is small but my own, decorated with pictures of blood splatter.

 

Castiel is such a good person. He sees the world in black and white. He knows what I am and he hates me so if he’s here he must really need my help. I look his way letting him talk. I know why he’s here but it’s more fun if I wait for him to say it.

 

“I need an answer on this case. Just grab a fucking crayon and scribble on it that a mother fucking drug dealer did this. I don’t fucking care what you think, you fucking weirdo. OK? A drug dealer did this. That’s who we’re looking for so just say that on the page.”

 

“Sure. I need to look at the scene though.”

 

Castiel rolls his eyes

 

“Go then.”

 

I set up a reconstruction of the blood splatter accompanied by an officer, Bobby.

 

“Here are long thick heavy drips but over here is a nice clean spray, light movements, quick, clean and easy. The guy knew what he was doing.”

 

“Like a sushi chef?” Bobby asked.

 

“Not quite where I was going but could be.”

 

I resisted the urge to eye roll.

 

The rest of my Friday went by quickly. Before I knew it, it was already the night. Date night in Miami, Florida. For the life of me, I don’t understand sex. I have nothing against women. I just think of the act of sex is undignified, messy and I don’t like messes. Thankfully the woman I’m with is okay with not having sex. She says we’re taking it slow. I’m all for slow. I have to pretend to be normal or none of this is possible. And finally I found the perfect girl for me. Her name is Y/N. Sam was the one that introduced us. He said she would be perfect for me and she was. He met her at a domestic violence call. In her own way, she’s as damaged as I am. She opens the door and smiles at me.

 

“Hi, sweetheart.”

 

“Hi, Dean.”

 

“Give me a minute. I’m just going to finish getting ready.”

 

I nod and play with her two kids. I’m always good with kids. I’m better with kids than with regular people. I’m not sure why.

 

“You look beautiful, “ I say almost mechanically.

 

Calling her sweetheart and saying she looks nice. That’s what boyfriends say right? I take her out dancing. She looks so happy and carefree dancing and I like making her happy. I like spending time with her. Everything is cut short when the police show up. They found another body. Again, no blood and this time no head. This killer was better than me. How was that possible? Who was he? How exciting. A rival.

 

I took Y/N home to her apartment nearly rushing back to mine. My little sanctuary of quiet and calmness, no tough decisions, no emotions just a blank slate of an apartment. No decorated walls -- just functional furniture. It was then that Sam called me.

 

“Do you have anything on the case. Please any fucking thing. I don’t want to be a meter maid here. I need to get on homicide.”

 

“Everyone thinks the killer was interrupted since there were clean cuts on the body parts and a mark that looked like a hesitation mark. But if the killer was interrupted think..”

 

“…Then he wouldn’t have had time to wrap the bodies.”

 

“Exactly. The fourth body had different marks, he’s changing, trying to find the technique that works for him. He’s looking for inspiration. No blood at the scene…”

 

“Yeah… You know I overheard the coroner say something about cell crystallization. I mean the pieces are cold like meatpacking fucking cold you know.”

 

“It’s beautiful…why didn’t I think of it? Yes. Cold stops the flow of blood. Yes. A refrigerated truck. A cold environment would slow down the flow of blood. He’d need something clean and mobile to dump the dead bodies afterwards.”

 

“A refrigerated truck. You’re a genius, Dean. Thank you. I have a lead.”

 

“Any time, Sam.”

 

“Love you, Dean. Bye”

 

The second I put the phone down, another call came through. Thinking it was Sammy I picked up. I heard nothing on the other line.

 

“Sammy?”

 

“Who’s Sammy? Oh yes, your darling little brother. Oh no, I’m not your brother. Just a fan of your work.”

 

I instantly tensed at the unfamiliar voice on the line.

 

“And what work would that be?”

 

“No need to play coy with me, Dean. We have the same extra curricular activities. I’m the killer you’re looking for. I just wanted to say hi. I’ve been a fan for such a long time.”

 

“I don’t know any British men.”

 

“Oh come now, Dean. You and I are masters of disguise. Can you really be sure this is my real accent? Presume nothing. I’d love to see if you can catch me. I took the liberty of tapping your phone. Keep your friends closer, enemies... well you know the rest.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I already said. Am I boring you? Please tell me you’re still listening. I’m a fan and I’ve been studying your work for years. I’d love to see who's better.”

 

“How did you get in.”

 

“Please. You have four locks on your door. Not exactly Fort Knox. Every lock can be picked. You just have to know how.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“And spoil the big reveal? Never. You are such a clever boy though. Who knows? You might figure it out. I am in a refrigerated truck actually. In fact, there’s where I’ll be in ten minutes. See you soon.”

 

The second the line went dead, I got a text. I called Sammy telling him to meet me. I knew he would be calling it in. No need to waste minutes doing it myself. I made it in nine minutes looking around for a truck when I heard a car horn go off behind me. Then strong headlights blinded me. I heard a truck drive off next to me. I couldn’t see the driver but I made out: Miami Chills Ice Refrigerated Delivery, on the truck as it passed me. I was excited and angry. He already knew too much about me.

 

He was too clever. And he’d been in my home, rifled through my things. He was quite the worthy opponent though. Suddenly he made a u-turn and kept driving straight for me but missed me. Something made a thump bouncing off the windshield. Sammy ran up to me asking if I was OK, a minute after the truck left. I looked down and saw that the driver threw a head at me. The very head that was missing from the body. My colleagues and brother asked millions of questions. I answered mechanically, my mind elsewhere trying to figure out what the killer’s endgame was.

 

I finally was allowed to go home only to find a severed Barbie doll head on my refrigerator holding up a note.

 

“Love what you’ve done to the place. How prosaic keeping mementos from your victims. Tsk. Tsk Dean. Don’t leave any evidence. We’ll meet again real soon. Crowley.”

 

My slides were still in their hiding place. It seemed this Crowley person didn’t take anything. Twice though he broke in. I should really consider moving. Finally I had a game worth playing. I couldn’t wait to see what else this Crowley had planned.


End file.
